A Bad Document’s Good Idea

The Southerners who gathered in Montgomery, Ala., a century and a half ago saw themselves as the true inheritors of the original Founding Fathers. Indeed, the Constitution they approved — its sesquicentennial is today — was more imitation than innovation. “We the people of the Confederate states,” said their preamble, “establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity.”

Despite the familiar ring, there were important differences. In trying to build their own version of a more perfect union, the secessionists protected “the right of property in negro slaves.” In doing so, they rendered their entire project suspect, both then and now.

Yet the authors of the Confederate Constitution were serious, learned men who thought hard about the principles of democratic government and sought ways to improve on the original document. They also came to their project with something that their forebears in Philadelphia lacked. In 1787, James Madison may have had clear notions about the operation of American government. The men of 1861, though, could draw from three score and fourteen 14 years of actual experience.

And, in fact, parts of the Confederate Constitution improved on the original. One section gave the president the ability to delete parts of spending bills, for example. Today, most governors possess the same authority. The Confederates’ objectionable views on slavery should not automatically invalidate their opinions on unrelated matters. It’s hardly racist to think that Americans would benefit if President Obama also had a line-item veto on the budget.

The Confederate document contained another great idea that would certainly upgrade our own Constitution: it limited the president to a single term of six years. The lousy second-term president is one of the great curses of American history. When loyalists chant “four more years” at party conventions, it’s almost like they’re hexing their subjects. From George Washington and Thomas Jefferson to Bill Clinton and George W. Bush, the disappointing presidential encore has become a dismal tradition. Given this pattern, even the most loyal Obama supporter must wonder whether re-election in 2012 would be worth it.

Why do two-termers frequently finish on a bad note? Perhaps it’s because they dash into office full of energy, good will and political capital. Then they grow tired and wear out their welcome. Mid-term congressional elections usually erode their power and embolden their foes. Top aides often move on, replaced by second stringers who lack the same level of commitment. When battered incumbents cross the finish line, they’re usually happy to go home.

For the original founders in 1787, the rules of presidential tenure were an open question. They considered proposals ranging from terms of three years to two decades, as well as reappointment by Congress rather than re-election by voters. In the end, of course, they settled on four years and unlimited re-eligibility. In Federalist Nos. 71 and 72, Alexander Hamilton argued that this struck the right balance between stability and accountability. He was especially concerned about the former, warning against “the fatal inconveniences of fluctuating councils and a variable policy.”

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The Confederates didn’t leave behind their own version of the Federalist Papers, but it’s clear that they wanted to correct the earlier consensus. Hamilton’s fears of instability concerned them less than the prospect of a mighty national government controlled by an energetic executive. They worried that presidents who could serve eight years or more would accrue too much power and threaten democracy.

Their answer was to create an office that was muscular enough to withstand congressional excesses but too weak to challenge the authority of the states. The line-item veto was a check on Congress. The single-term president was a check on the executive.

In time, many other Americans came around to the Confederate way of thinking. The 22nd Amendment, ratified in 1951, formally limited presidents to two terms. It ended the prospect of the lifetime president, but it didn’t solve the problem of the second-term letdown. The founding fathers of the stillborn Confederacy may have had it right: Four years isn’t enough and two terms is too much.

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One-hundred-and-fifty years ago, Americans went to war with themselves. Disunion revisits and reconsiders America’s most perilous period — using contemporary accounts, diaries, images and historical assessments to follow the Civil War as it unfolded.